


Adieu Château Lafite Rothschild et Bienvenue Couture Parisienne

by Vecieminde



Series: BT Tower Telephone Group C [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1799, 1899, 1900, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Moustache (Good Omens), Fluff, Friendship, It Is Ineffable, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, Old Friends, Old Traditions, Parisian Fashion, Party Games, Romance, The Expansion of The Arrangement, Turn of the Century, When It Was Actually Stylish, Whiskey - Freeform, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vecieminde/pseuds/Vecieminde
Summary: It is New Year’s Eve in London. Crowley is back from his travels and plans to get himself and Aziraphale involved in their old traditions.  Neither of them wants to miss out on those. After all...they occur only once in a century.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: BT Tower Telephone Group C [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937824
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Adieu Château Lafite Rothschild et Bienvenue Couture Parisienne

**Author's Note:**

> I had the honours to start the chain in [ BT Tower Telephone Group C ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636458)
> 
> My starting prompt was "Well, where did you last see it?"
> 
> At first I did not know what to do with this but then idea grew around it. I have always been fond of idea that Crowley and Aziraphale have been more intimate before the final events in the series.
> 
> So a concept of New Year’s Eve came to me and how on this one night they do not have to worry about their offices finding out about them. On this one night they can enjoy each other’s company in which ever way they would like.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!😊

"So, do you think it is time for the predictions?"

He asks, the whiskey in his glass beginning to learn how it might feel like to be a stormy sea. The gloves have been removed to reveal elegant hands that haven't seen a day of hard work. At least that is the impression that their owner wants them to give. 

A bit of a blue flashes inside his companion's eyes, who sits in his armchair across him. It tends to happen when Principality Aziraphale gets a bit too emotional or excited, but Crowley likes this colour. He likes how he is the one who happens to get it into the fields of greens and browns more often than anybody else. Aziraphale's blue is a river which nourishes the land into its fertile magnificence. 

Crowley takes another sip from his whiskey to eradicate the complex network of thoughts that revolve around the angel's eyes.

The said angel has helped himself with the glass of red wine that Crowley had brought from his travels to the Mediterranean region.

"I think it just might be, dear boy. Do you remember anything about what you wrote down in 1799?" Aziraphale asks, letting himself a tad looser after the glass becomes suddenly rather mysteriously empty.

Crowley strokes his moustache, styled according to the latest Parisian fashion just like his suit which is of course of the highest quality. One agreement that Crowley and Aziraphale have unanimously come to is that, if you have to wear anything then it be of style and quality. The difference comes when Aziraphale's sense of style seems to think that changing wardrobe once a century is sufficient, contrary to Crowley's fast-paced nature which considers even a decade a bit too long to be stuck in the same cut waistcoat and trousers. The demon has to reluctantly admit, however, that he will probably stick with this one for a while longer.

"To be completely honest I remember much of nothing about this night. Or the year. Do you?" the demon inquires in return, his right ankle cracking as he rolls it in a calming rhythm.

It takes Aziraphale a delightful moment when he indeed appears a bit angelic as he looks up and squints his eyes, trying to summon knowledge from Heaven like most saints. It comes more natural to Aziraphale though than to St Sebastian despite the strong motivation of the arrows in his body.

"It is indeed quite a foggy memory. I...can’t recall really anything. Odd. I usually remember the turn of the centuries," Aziraphale ponders as Crowley fills the angel's glass with more wine.

"I think the reason why we don't remember anything might be that box of Château Lafite Rothschild. It was...something. How is this one?"

Crowley's hand offers Aziraphale the glass which the other one takes, fingertips touching just enough to be by accident. That small smile on Aziraphale's soft lips, however, is just enough of a hint that it was anything but an accident.

"I fancy it. It is bitter at first but if you keep it on your tongue a bit longer then it transforms into a drink with favourable sweetness. Exactly as I currently want it. Thank you for the gift. I truly appreciate it."

Aziraphale smiles warmly, sipping more of his drink. Crowley, however, is surprised that the whiskey has started to already work on him. Why else would he feel that bit of heat on his cheeks?

"Ahem. The predictions, angel. It is time to bring them into the light after a century."

Aziraphale nods: "Yes, of course. I shall see to it in an instant."

The blond angel turns away from Crowley and lets his gaze run across the whole bookshop, yet he makes no attempt to stand up or walk in any direction. Crowley's eyebrow moves up in mild amusement as he watches the angel's peculiar behaviour.

"You don't remember that either, do you?" he asks, setting his glass down on the coffee table with a slightly dramatic thump.

Aziraphale sheepishly turns his head back, a bit of red teasing his cheeks as well. Crowley runs his tongue over his teeth, appreciating the sight in front of him. Getting those kinds of reactions out of Aziraphale is pleasant entertainment. Especially if it gives that angel a taste of his own medicine which he serves Crowley more often than he should.

"I am sorry. That night really is that...dull in mind."

"Dull, huh? Right..." Crowley took more offence from this sentence than either of them expected. The demon's hand is reaching after his dark shades that are laying on the table and were supposed to stay there for the rest of the night, but Aziraphale had slipped with his words and something that takes so much for Aziraphale to lower down is creeping back up again.

In order to stop it from happening Aziraphale places his hand shamelessly on top of Crowley's.

"Not all of it, though. There is this one bit that isn't dull in any sense of the word. I could never not recall...our tradition." 

Those sweet words and warm touch on Crowley's hand seem to have a softening effect on the demon and he leans closer to Aziraphale.

"Why do I have a feeling that the predictions are not the tradition you are speaking of?"

"Because it isn't. You know what I am talking about."

“Do I?”

"Crowley..." 

The demon chuckles, slowly turning his hand around so that he can interlace his fingers with Aziraphale's. The angel smiles at him. His genuine smile with crinkles around his eyes. Completely unrestrained. Tonight...like on every turn of the century...both Heaven and Hell are way too busy with planning ahead for the next century and taking care of the past one to monitor the present. Much less their field agents, who should manage to spend one night and day without screwing up.

And usually they do because those nights...they always spend together in each other's company.

"But about those predictions," Crowley still persists, "Well, where did you last see them?"

Aziraphale sighs in exasperation: "I really don't remember, but we can look for them later. Can we perhaps...enjoy our other tradition first? Since it is more within reach?"

On Crowley's face appears a tempting smirk and he murmurs: "Would you look at that. Someone is enjoying The Arrangement."

At first, Aziraphale thinks to protest but then decides to play along: " I have to admit that it has its perks. Especially those tiny side agreements. I have grown to be rather fond of them."

"Oh? And why is that?" Crowley teases, being closer to Aziraphale than he has in a long while, hand still being held.

"Because I get to do this..."

Aziraphale closes the final distance and presses his lips gently onto Crowley's. The moustache tickles but he doesn't care. The last day of 1899 is theirs and this is the night they are without fear or worry.

Crowley hums against Aziraphale's lips, his other hand coming to cup the angel's soft cheek. The kiss is cherished and lingering. It has to be because it is rarer than the eclipse, occurring only on one night once a century since The Arrangement.

##    
  


**Author's Note:**

> These predictions that they keep talking about is part of their game. On the first year of the new century they come up with some random predictions about the upcoming 100 years. They write it down and in the next turn of the century they look at the predictions again and see how many things they got right. They are not that accurate but they both find ways to feel like their minds contributed into the course of history anyway and that in “theory” —minus some crucial details— they got several predictions right.


End file.
